


Worlds Apart

by kaeorin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Captivation, Character Death Fix, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, IW SPOILERS, Infinity War, Infinity War spoilers, Nightmares, Romance, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 10:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14495187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Your husband is far away, gone to a neighboring kingdom with his brother, and now you’re having nightmares. (Slight spoilers for Infinity War. I don't think they're SUPER blatant or anything, but it's probably best to give this story a miss for now, if you're worried about spoilers.)





	Worlds Apart

**Author's Note:**

> There are…references to spoilers in this story, but I don’t think any of them are clear or obvious enough to spoil the film for you. I had most of this story written in my head before I went to see Infinity War, and I just took some specific details from some specific scenes and plugged them in. 
> 
> Also, this story takes place in some kind of parallel universe of Captivation, a reader-insert story that I wrote about Loki and Asgard. This is not a canon addition to Captivation, and you don't have to read that story in order to fully understand this one, but it’s got the same Reader and Loki characters. This could very well have been a horrendous mistake, given the fact that I’m referencing events involving the actual Loki from the films whereas my Captivation Loki has undergone a lot of growth and development independent of Marvel, but…I don’t know. In my opinion, it works. If nothing else, it’s just the kind of silly, self-indulgent thing that I tend to flood the internet with. 
> 
> Listen. After Infinity War, I wanted something warm and fluffy to read. This is that something warm and fluffy. I hope you like it.

At night, the dreams came.

At first there was only a wide expanse of darkness, freckled with tiny pinpricks of light. There was no sound, no people, nothing else to see but the darkness broken only here and there by light. This was not yet enough to terrify you. As the nights went on, the dreams began to stretch until finally they were just long enough to become oppressive. But still, in the mornings, when you awakened to the sounds of your busy home, these dreams only left you with a vague sense of unease. 

But then the walls appeared. Dark and rusting. Cold and endless. Beyond them still existed that uneasy darkness, but now you were penned in. This was somehow worse. Sometimes these dreams were filled with a clanking sound, as of boots on metal, but there were never any people there. The walls made you feel caged. You were trapped. The threat was growing. There were still no signs of what, exactly, the threat might have been, but the walls had become ominous. More than once, you had been startled awake by a long, dreadful moan, only to realize, in the safety of your empty bedchambers, that the sound had come from you.

You tried not to let it get to you. You certainly tried not to let your struggles show on your face or in your behavior in the light of day. Loki had gone off with Thor, to speak with the leader of a neighboring kingdom. This was not the first time that he had left you here alone, and it would certainly not be the last. And it should not have been a problem. You were not a child. You had a job here—to maintain your home as the Queen maintained her palace (though your home, of course, was much smaller than the royal palace). Grown women did not allow murky nightmares to rattle them. So...you didn’t.

But then the fires came. The walls and darkness in your dreams were ripped into shreds by great flames. Even in dreams, the light was so great that it hurt your eyes. As they shattered, the walls let out inhuman groans and screams. It became a cacophony, filling your ears and your soul with the horrors. Your mind told you that your people were begging you for help, pleading for their lives, but you could not see a single one. There was no one here. You still didn’t even know where “here” was. Your hands trembled in your dreams as you reached out, groping for any sign of life, but your fingers always closed on thin air.

The servants began to notice. If you slept too deeply and were awakened by Sindri standing beside the bed, instead of by the sound of the door opening, you sometimes whimpered with fear before you could stop yourself. Though the warm sunlight that spilled through your windows made it more than clear that you were safe at home instead of in that horrible place which haunted you, your hands still trembled for the first few moments after you sat up in bed. Sindri did not miss this. Her sharp eyes took in the sight of you and gave you the uncomfortable feeling that she saw more than you could know. Still, every morning, when you forced a carefree smile and asked her how she’d slept, she allowed her concern to slide off of her face. She pretended with you, just as you needed her to.

Though it was not part of her job, she must have begun inquiring after your prince, because every morning she had something to share. Sometimes it was something about him specifically—he’d sent his regards to you with a messenger to the kingdom, or he’d been seen browsing a marketplace—but more often it was simply news of that other kingdom itself. Each morning, your gentle servant—rather, your loving friend—assured you in her own way that all was well in the kingdom. That your prince was safe and would return to you.

It should have been enough.  
But then came the flashes of light. The dream would progress as usual at first: blackness, walls, fire, screams. But then the room would light up with a brilliant blue light. There was something beautiful about it, but mostly it was just sharp. It made your blood feel like ice in your veins. Each time the room lit up, your stomach sank down into your feet. There was nothing to see in these nightmares, and yet you were still convinced that this light was dangerous. 

The night the place turned purple, you woke up screaming. It felt different than all the nights before. There was something sickeningly final about that purple light. It made you feel like the room—your actual room, the room in which you awakened sick and trembling—was crumbling away beneath you. There had not been word from Loki in more than a week, and yet he was there in the dream—until he wasn’t. It was hard to breathe. You sat up in bed and pulled the covers more securely around your shoulders for warmth, though the feeling of them against your skin made you feel tangled-up and trapped.

The door flew open, slamming against the wall like thunder. Your heart, which had already been racing in your chest, threatened to explode. But it was only the pair of soldiers Loki had tasked with your protection in his absence. Somehow, you managed to force your dread far enough away to convince the men to go back to their positions. But as soon as they did, the fear threatened to choke you again. Just before the purple had flooded through the dream, there had been such a heavy, final silence that it had sucked all of the air from your lungs. But they weren’t really your lungs, were they? It was not you who roamed that terrible place, not in your dreams. You were someone else.

This was foolish. It was childish. Loki was safe, and you were safe, and before long, he would come back home to you and undoubtedly tease you for being so frightened. But you still wrapped the blankets even tighter around yourself and got up to go sit by the fire. You stared numbly into the flames for the rest of the night, with eyes that stung from the tears you would not allow to fall.

After that night, sleep became the enemy. Logically, you knew that flat-out refusing to sleep was just as stupid as waking up screaming from a nightmare, but...what choice did you have? There was nothing that anyone could do to ensure you wouldn’t see those horrors at night: no teas or herbs or potions that could force your brain to just be still. Or...if there was, your silly pride would not let you ask for it.

So you made yourself very busy. There were books to read, and things to tidy, contracts to look over, clothing to mend… You began hauling into your room anything and everything you could get your hands on, anything that would occupy you through the long nights. The first morning that Sindri found you half-dozing by the fire with a needle still in your hands, she nearly burst into tears as she tried to gather the linens up into her basket.

“Miss! A thousand pardons, miss! If I’d known these things needed mending, I would have done them, or at least gotten someone else to do it! Please, you’ve plenty other things to worry yourself with! I’ll be more observant, I promise. It’s my job, I should have known without needing to be told! Please let me take these.” When she’d tried to take the piece you were holding, you reacted just in time, pulling it closer to your chest.

“It’s nothing, darling. You haven’t done anything wrong.” You tightened your grip on the cloth even though she’d already stopped trying to wrest it from you. “Really. I stole these from the mending basket last night. I wanted to do it myself.”

Sindri stood back, then, and really looked at you. You knew that you must look awful: hair mussed and stringy from all the times you tried to rake your fingers through it; eyes dull or even wild, with purple half-circles underneath; cheeks either flushed from your haste to reassure the girl, or else pale from your lack of sleep. She put one hand on her hip and opened her mouth as though to speak, but quickly closed it. You offered a smile that didn’t go quite all the way up to your eyes. Thankfully, though, Sindri didn’t press you on it. In fact, she turned away from you, and went over to pick up the breakfast tray. 

Only when her back was turned to you did she speak: “I haven’t heard anything directly, my lady, but a girl I know says her friend saw Loki at the palace a few days ago. She says he is well, though perhaps tired.” With that, she turned around again and placed the tray carefully in your lap. You couldn’t look at her.

“Thank you, Sindri.” You weren’t entirely stupid. You knew that your dreams stemmed mainly from your concern. The problem was simply that your concern was misplaced. You lifted your tea to your lips, but barely even noted the taste of it as you swallowed. “I...will feel better when he’s home.”

“I know, miss. We just can’t have you falling ill while he’s gone.” With that, she dragged the other chair closer to you and dropped into it with an exaggerated shudder. “He’s changed so much since you came around, but I still wouldn’t want to face him if he found out I let you work yourself sick while he was gone.”

There was something in her expression that told you she was speaking the truth, but then her face contorted in a grimace so intense that it was comical. You laughed despite yourself, she reached to take a roll from the tray, and you were able to relax into your familiar routine with the girl as golden sunbeams lit the room.

***

One night, you brought a small table over to your chair before the fire and immersed yourself in stacks of contracts and plans. You still didn’t feel entirely comfortable making the final decision on things like this—you had not grown up in the palace; you didn’t know the ins and outs of running a household or approving plans for new structures—but Loki never failed to ask for your input when he went over these things, and you hated to let him down. You studied the pages even as your eyesight went blurry. If you fell asleep while working, it took longer for the dreams to start up again, and sometimes you even slept lightly enough that you did not dream at all. Still, it was not uncommon for you to startle yourself awake gasping and clawing at an invisible set of hands that threatened to choke the life out of you.

This night, however, what woke you instead was the gentle shifting of the papers in your lap. You jerked upright, apparently just awake enough to realize that it would be a pain to try to put everything in the correct order again if it spilled everywhere onto the floor. Instead of closing around the pages, however, your fingers brushed against cool skin.

“Loki?” Your stomach tightened. How could you be sure you were not dreaming again? If this was the next step in your nightmares, what would happen? Was he the one being strangled? If he was, could you ever fall asleep again? You rubbed your eyes to clear the sleep from them, and your hands came away wet. The fire was dimmer than you remembered it being before you fell asleep, but surely this was not that cold dark place from your nightmares.

“It is late, darling. Why aren’t you in bed?” He placed the papers on the table and then stooped as though to pick you up. You couldn’t stop yourself: you cringed away from him. He drew back immediately, lowering his arms to his sides. “Are you well?”

Your mind was just now starting to wake up. You allowed your eyes to travel the length of his body, taking in the familiar angles and lines of him on the way up to his face. He looked concerned and exhausted, but...alive. A deep sob—of anguish, of panic, of sheer exhaustion—escaped before you could press your fists to your mouth, and you tried to somehow burrow deeper into the chair.

That was enough for Loki. He took hold of your wrists and firmly but gently pulled you to your feet. In an instant, he had enfolded you in his arms. He smelled real. He felt real. Something clicked in your sluggish brain and allowed you to wrap your arms around him so tightly that your muscles ached. He was whispering to you: sweet, tender things that somehow cut through your terror and soothed you. 

Not long after you finally—finally--allowed yourself to relax against your prince, he pulled away and cupped your face in his palms. He did not ask you what was wrong. He only studied you, weariness and concern lengthening his features. Suddenly ashamed, you tried to look away so you did not have to look at what you’d caused, but he would not release you. He brushed his thumbs over your cheekbones and attempted a smile. In his eyes was a question that you did not know how to answer.

“I was worried about you,” you said, rather pointlessly. “I...was having dreams. Or just one dream, but over and over again. It was confusing but it felt somehow...real.” You swallowed hard. “It felt like an omen.”

“And I don’t suppose it was a good omen,” he said. His voice was light, but not quite teasing. Still, you lowered your eyes.

“You were dying,” you whispered. Until now, that had not truly registered, but now you knew it to be true. The darkness, the fire, the desperate fight for air: the dream had been entirely about your prince. Your husband. Fresh tears rose into your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. He followed the track of one with his eyes and with the gentle touch of his thumb. You closed your eyes. “I know they were just dreams, Loki, but...”

“They felt real.” 

You nodded. By now you knew him well enough to know he’d never ridicule you for being so upset over something like this, at least not while you were still caught in the throes of it all, but the sympathy in his voice made relief flood through you. He made a low hum and then slid his arms around your back again.

“Do I not feel real?” he breathed against your ear. “Because I am here, my beloved. Alive and well and more in love with you than I think I ever have been.” You felt him playing with the ties on your dress, but it was only when you felt it beginning to loosen that you realized what he was doing. “Death will not part us, queen of my heart. I swear this to you. I will not let it.”

His words brought back memories—similar promises scattered through time. In the past, you had not allowed them to comfort you, but now you could hear the truth in his voice. You nodded and raised your gaze back to his. When he saw you looking at him again, he smiled that soft, easy smile that seemed reserved expressly for you.

“As long as you swear it,” you said. “I suppose I must take you at your word.” 

He gave a quiet laugh, then, and leaned forward to capture your lips with his. He did not demand or devour. Tonight his kiss was soft. Tender. You might have thought he was looking to relearn the shape and feel of you, if you did not already know that you were as much a part of him as he was of you. When he broke the kiss, he did not pull away, but rested his forehead against yours.

“You are my queen, beloved. The only thing you _must_ do is allow me to spend my days indulging in my everlasting devotion to you.” His eyes were closed. The tension had all but fallen away from his face, and peace was beginning to replace it. He was tracing flowing patterns on the skin of your back, causing goosebumps to erupt along your arms. You shivered a little and pressed still closer to him. All this time together, and he could still make you feel giddy inside.

“It would be an honor,” you whispered. You weren’t sure you could trust your voice enough right now to speak any louder. But it was enough. He opened his eyes and you watched as they focused in on yours. He smiled at you then, something that now seemed as natural and easy to him as breathing, and the intimacy of it all made your knees wobble. You tightened your grip on him and ducked so you could hide your face where his neck met his shoulder. “Forever?”

It seemed you had only just settled yourself against him when he scooped you up into his arms. Only the tiniest squeak of surprise escaped you before he was pressing his lips to your forehead. “In a thousand lifetimes I could not tire of showing you how deeply I adore you.” With that, he carried you over to the bed and laid you down gently among the soft coverings. As he looked down at you, his eyes caught the reflection of the torchlight. They burned. You could not help it: you shivered again. He relented, then, and stalked over to the other side of the bed. After he’d settled himself, he reached out to pull you closer, then covered the both of you with a deliciously-soft fur. “Tonight, we sleep.” His breath was hot against your ear. “But I do not intend to let you out of bed tomorrow, either.”

“For more sleep, my lord?” You kept your voice as innocent as you could, and were rewarded with a hungry growl from husband:

“Among other things.”


End file.
